


Untitled

by Kate



Category: Queen and the Soldier (Song)
Genre: F/M, Yuletide 2009
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 12:32:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate/pseuds/Kate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>History always repeats itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Avendya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avendya/gifts).



_All of this has happened before and all of it will happen again._

She'd seen his face before, though she didn't remember where. Thinking only that she had seen him from her window, as he marched and struggled on the battlefield below, she dismissed the recognition and didn't think of it again.

If she had, she might have remembered a moment from years before, when she'd been a child in a litter, being carried to the palace, and a young man glimpsed through the curtains. Their eyes had met, briefly, and he had stuck in her memory, for a while - but time had passed and the image had been submerged. He was scarred now, too, as he hadn't been then, but still she might have remembered.

Or perhaps not.

He wanted to leave. More than wanted to, he'd made up his mind, and he'd had enough of fighting and watching others die. More than that, though, far more than the escape, he wanted to know why. What - and who - had it all been for? So he came to find her, and he asked.

Ah, yes, time and again, she'd heard men like him speak like this, and time and again they'd asked her that question. He knew that much, but still he'd had to ask it for himself - after all, if a change can be made, who can say who'll make it? Perhaps an honest answer would give him understanding and her a kind of freedom, or perhaps it wouldn't. Perhaps it was something else entirely they both needed, but those in a trap can often not see it close around them.

She wasn't a woman yet, for all he used that word. She had never had need or cause to grow up. Not a woman, then, but she was a Queen. She couldn't have given that honest answer, had she even wanted to - and she wasn't ready to want to, not really, for as long as things were as they were.

The Queen let him in, into the palace and into her rooms, empty and somehow cold for all the warm red colours on the walls, all the luxury and softness filling the space. She invited him to sit, but for all the courtesy, she was still the Queen and she needed him to remember it. Needed to remember it herself, for what other protection did she have? So her crown stayed on, and she didn't thaw.

He spoke to her again, then. He was older than her and knew many things, and whatever the gap in their rank, he was daring and bold. "I see you now", he said, "and you are so very young, but I've seen more battles lost than I have battles won. And I've got this intuition says it's all for your fun." Though he had sat when she gave the word, and though she was still standing, it was as though he stood over her as he met her eyes. "And now will you tell me why?"

She was angry, at that, but angry as a child is angry, with more petulance and bruised pride than anything, and she did not have him removed. More than that, she gave him an answer of sorts, though it wasn't one he wanted. "You won't understand", the queen snapped, eyes fixed on his face, "and you may as well not try."

The soldier looked at her and he thought he did understand, more than ever. She looked younger than ever, too, and her face was tight with the effort of warding off tears. But then she turned away and would not look at him any longer, and the moment when he could read her was gone. She looked at the floor when she spoke to him next, and her voice was low and ashamed.

And she said, "I've swallowed a secret burning thread. It cuts me inside, and often I've bled." And the soldier stepped to her side, and put a hand on the crown of her head, and gently he bent her down to the ground, and though she could have resisted, she let him do it. Men would have come at her call, but she gave none. For whatever reason was in her heart, she let him do it, and there was a softness in his eyes and sympathy in his voice.

"Tell me how hungry are you? How weak you must feel, as you are living here alone, and you are never revealed." He turned her head then, as gentle as before, and made her look him in the face. "But I won't march again on your battlefield." The last was firm, despite his compassion, and he picked the queen up again and led her to the window of her tower. There were things he wanted to show her, beyond the palace.

The sky was grey and clouded, on this particular day, but the sun blazed gold through the clouds and lit the men below with utter clarity. The queen wasn't looking down at them, however, this time - she was looking into the distance, beyond the battlefield, and the sun fell on her face and her expression turned to yearning. But then her face blanked, with just one flash of fear, and she could look no more. She turned away from the soldier once again, preferring to look anywhere but at his face.

He said, knowing how likely it was that he'd lost her, making one last appeal, "I want to live as an honest man. To get all I deserve and to give all I can, and to love a young woman who I don't understand. Your Highness, your ways are very strange." Still, she never looked up, though his words threw her into turmoil. She hid it from him, but there was shame in her heart, and pain as well. There were many things she wanted in that moment... but none of them could she allow herself to have.

Her crown lay on the floor, her eyes fixed on the spot where it had fallen, and it was a long time before she stooped to pick it up and replace it on her head. When that was done, she turned back to the soldier with queenly mien, and she asked him to go with her. She escorted him to the steps of the palace, and there she left him, promising to return in a moment, and he believed her.

He waited, for the answer she'd never given and, perhaps, in the hope that she would take his love and all else he could offer. But she didn't come back.

Someone else came, sent in her place, and the soldier looked to her window as the guards put him to the sword, but he saw no sign.

And upstairs, the queen remained alone in her rooms, looking out over the battlefield, and the metal clashed below. Perhaps one day the man would come who could succeed where this soldier had failed.

Or perhaps not.


End file.
